


A Place to Rest (Part 5/?)

by rubycrowned



Series: A Place to Rest [5]
Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, lol finally, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubycrowned/pseuds/rubycrowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you know where your love is? Do you think that you lost it? You felt it so strong, but nothing's turned out how you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Rest (Part 5/?)

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter's a bit on the short side, but that just means I can get started on the next one :) Rhee beta'd this for me since I was too impatient to wait for Ari to get online later on. Also, I have absolutely no idea what song to use for this chapter and I was too lazy to find one; so here, have a song I've been listening to a lot lately - 'Another Day' from the RENT film (I rewatched a few times lately and I love this song ok)

Zayn had almost forgotten he was a fairly successful, rather famous performing artist over the last five months.

When he first came home, he had a scheduled month off already. Four solid weeks where he had been promised there would be no gigs, no interviews, no public appearances unless he decided he wanted them. And with the circumstances surrounding his return, that was exactly what he needed, what was best for everyone.

The advantage that came with age, Zayn had come to realise, really was the experience that came with it. And experience in the music industry had left him with enough of an insight that he more or less knew what was expected of him and, regardless of said expectations, just how much of that he was  _actually_  obliged to do, compared with what they told him he was.

So when the middle of October had approached, bringing the wedding and the end of Zayn’s break, and Zayn knew that he wasn’t ready to come back, not yet, it was time to talk to his management team. He was still with Modest after all that had passed over the years, although his team was different now. They were good people from what Zayn could tell, but they were still focused on making money off of him, which was where the problem lay. Zayn didn’t ask for things very often though, and he was determined about this like he was for little else; they could see that.

It took some compromising on both sides, but it was a good outcome. Appearances were cut down for the next few months, and those which couldn’t be avoided, or needed simply to make sure that Zayn didn’t disappear off the radar, were limited to within the UK and to under three days away from home. Zayn consented to one trip across the Channel, but, again, he would only be doing a whirlwind tour for signings, a couple interviews and a single short gig in each of France and Spain.

His publicists were pretty sure they could spin it positively so that it simply came off as Zayn needing time for own grief and helping his old band mate in his hour of need (and Zayn had to wonder, because wasn’t that exactly what it was?). In return, Zayn was to have at least two workable tracks to present for the new album at the end of the period, and would be going straight into his brand new American tour afterwards.

It wasn’t much to promise in the scheme of things; Zayn did like to write music when he had the chance, and he had thought it might be a good way to get Liam back a bit, to collaborate with his best friend, almost like old times. The tour would have been going ahead in February regardless, so there was never any changing that, and this way he got a much lighter schedule of dreaded training for the tour in the meantime (although he wouldn’t think about how hard he’d be made to work once they were in America); even after all this time, Zayn wasn’t the most skilled of dancers, and he was constantly grateful that his solo style required even less of it than in One Direction.

And then it was almost time to go.

Time to leave the cosy, dysfunctional family he had knitted himself into for a ten week trip where he was Zayn Malik, the handsome and broody musician; leather jackets and flocking girls around every corner. Not Zayn, with grin-sore cheeks, woollen jerseys and sweatpants stained with finger-paints; a one-(baby)girl, one-man( _friend_ ) sort of guy.

But first, there was one more thing to celebrate.

***

The house had been transformed into a mess of purple and silver decorations; bundles of balloons had been attached to every available surface, as well as forming somewhat of a lethal obstacle course as free ones drifted about underfoot. Streamers were already starting to come loose from the walls and banisters, and the party wasn’t even half way done.

Liam had never liked to do things by halves – he cared too much to not go all out when he set his mind to something - and even though Zayn doubted Ana would even remember much about her third birthday in later years, this party had been no exception. He knew that part of it was in an effort to make the first birthday without Danielle that bit easier, so he refused to begrudge him it. Although, as a small horde of toddlers stormed past him while he carried another present to the rather impressive pile in the corner, Zayn wished just a little that Liam had decided upon a family event, and not necessarily the entire class of Anastasia’s new preschool and the associated parents.

At least it wasn’t raining. Winter was finally getting close to its end, and there was a faint warmth in the rays of the early-February sun. This meant that the majority of the kids were running around outside, kicking about a few of the balloons or bouncing and tumbling about the bouncy castle Liam had hired. Zayn thought he could catch a glimpse of curly hair and brand new pink fairy wings through the windows of the castle and smiled. As long as the birthday girl was having a good time, he didn’t think the rest of it really mattered.

Moving away from the door to the backyard, Zayn went to help a slightly flustered looking Karen with refilling snack bowls and putting out more fairy bread; Zayn had thought that they had bought enough to feed an army, but he apparently had underestimated the appetite of twenty odd two and three year olds. Considering the way he’d watched Ana put away pizza the other week, he probably shouldn’t have been surprised by their stamina when it came to junk food; the sandwiches and vege sticks, while still running low, had not been nearly as hard hit.

Once restocked, Zayn looked about for a moment, spinning in a circle in the lounge until he spotted Liam chatting with one of the many mothers present. While he wished there had been a few more Dads around, or guys in general – the lads were around somewhere, but Zayn was pretty sure they were hiding outside with the excuse of entertaining the kids rather than making small talk – he was  still grateful that most of the Mums were still just a tad too old to have been part of their screaming fandom in years past.

Zayn moved to join Liam, leaning on his friend as he introduced himself to the woman with him (“Sophie; Monique’s Mum,” Zayn smiled back politely, good at pretending that he would still remember the name ten minutes later), forearm on Liam’s shoulder making the other man shoot him a look, bending slightly under Zayn’s weight. But there was a smile along with it, one which reached his eyes, so Zayn was satisfied he wasn’t in too much trouble.

He more or less clung to Liam for the next half hour or so as they made their way through the rounds of the guests. Liam seemed to know most of the parents already, and Zayn often got away with only a sentence or two, instead listening and just enjoying Liam’s company, even if the attention wasn’t particularly focused on Zayn.

He was pretty sure there were several sets of eyes on the two of them as they made the circuit of the room, and more than one conversation discussing them, but Zayn couldn’t really bring himself to care. It wasn’t something new; there had been suspicious glances a plenty over the past months at their closeness, at Zayn’s protectiveness, at the fact that Zayn was still living with Liam and Ana, or that the little girl had been heard to slip up occasionally and swap her usual “Unca Zayn” (she still hadn’t quite mastered the ‘le’ part of the title) for “Dad”. It was all true, and none of it was probably normal, but then, they never  _had_  had a normal relationship with each other (friendship, bromance, something unnameable which Zayn didn’t want to question in case it burst like a fragile bubble upon inspection), and if Liam didn’t seem to care about the judgement of others, then Zayn followed his lead.

Liam brought the kids in soon enough for cake. Zayn was dragged to the table with Liam by a bossy birthday girl, made to help blow out her candles after a particularly ear-splitting rendition (Zayn should really limit the sugar intake of Louis and Niall at these things) of ‘Happy Birthday’ before he pulled himself away to take photos of the mass of children around the table, underneath the obnoxiously bright “Happy Birthday Anastasia” banner Harry had helped Zayn paint the day before. They were both quite proud of the effort, and Zayn’d be damned if he wasn’t going to have documented evidence of it.

The one he captured of Liam pressing a noisy kiss to his giggling daughter’s forehead was his favourite, though.

***

By the time everyone had left later that night, Zayn was almost dead on his feet. He couldn’t believe how noisy that many children in the same place could be and, considering his life, that was no mean feat.

The majority of the party had left late afternoon, toddlers starting to meltdown from the excitement of the day and the inevitable sugar crash. Anastasia herself had been carried to bed before it was even dinnertime, sleepily clutching one of her new stuffed toys in her fist (a gift Zayn had managed to hunt down – a Road Runner for his own wee Tazzie). The rest of Liam’s family, Sammi and the lads all left after an enjoyable,  _quiet_  dinner of leftover finger food and a salad the girls had managed to put together; the fact that Zayn had been happy to see the leafy vegetables was probably not a good sign of what he’d been eating the rest of the day.

With the last of their friends off home and the worst of the mess cleared up, Zayn and Liam collapsed into a heap on the couch. They sat in silence for a moment, then shared a look before bursting into shaking laughter.

Zayn groaned a little at the thought of the circus the day had been. It certainly hadn’t been what he’d have thought of when considering his ideal last day at home before he left the country for close to three months. But it had been good. And this, here and now, lying with Liam curled into his shoulder, the remnants of their laughter still reverberating into him, was what Zayn had wanted most of all; just the company and affection of his best mate, who he had become so used to seeing 24/7 that he didn’t quite know how he was going to handle the separation when it once again came. Just the simple comfort of a friend at your side; warmth seeped through Zayn’s shirt where they touched. It was enough of the truth that Zayn could almost believe his own lie.

He could almost believe that there was nothing more than friendship in the way that he gazed down at Liam as their laughter finally slowed and breathing returned to normal; that the silence between them was entirely comfortable and that his arm at Liam’s waist was simply a measure of brother-like affection.

That his breath didn’t catch and his stomach didn’t leap when Liam peered up through his fringe to meet Zayn’s eyes, filled with a pure happiness which crinkled his eyes at the corners, no wrinkles or flecks of grief to be seen in this moment.

Zayn didn’t know what had changed, but the world shifted, nearly imperceptibly, in that moment.

He didn’t know who did what, who moved first and who reached to close the gap.

He didn’t know whether it was right or wrong, but then he’d already given up trying to figure out the meanings of those words.

He didn’t know how or when his hand had moved to knot itself in Liam’s hair, feeling like it was finally home.

What he did know was that suddenly, magnificently, Zayn was kissing Liam.

And, even better, Liam was kissing Zayn back.

  
***  
  


**Author's Note:**

> DON'T KILL ME FOR LEAVING IT THERE OK BYE


End file.
